


Aivela's Gambit

by InAmongstTheMountains



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InAmongstTheMountains/pseuds/InAmongstTheMountains
Summary: And I have you. Set post KotET, the parallels between a redeemed SW and a redeemed Arcann are too good to ignore, an exploration into Arcann's attempts for atonement, and my warrior Zhaire finding her vulnerabilities.  A series of connected but separate fics.





	1. Chapter 1

Zhaire hefted herself up from the access ladder and onto the roof. The sounds of the continued celebration were muffled up here, leaving her free to sit with naught but her thoughts and take in Odessen. 

It had rained since Vaylin’s attack, the air cooler and crisp still touched by the scent of ash and churned earth. Her heart wrenched as she opened herself to the force, the planet too mourned the loss of life, the blood of comrades and friends. Zhaire pictured Torian’s face and she shut her eyes tight with the pain. 

Never again, she vowed, etching that feeling in her, no longer surprised by the attachment she felt for everyone here. She knew she would fight the galaxy alone to keep her and hers from harm. Zhaire paused amused by herself for a passing second, such behavior was unbecoming of a Sith… but then again, she’d stopped being Sith a long time ago. 

The force reached out through her, touching the lives of everyone celebrating and planning in the building below. She could feel Theron’s steady watchfulness, brush past Lana’s own confidant aura, now neutral like Zhaire’s own. She noted Koth’s pride, the excitement of his crew, the friendship forming between Aric and Kailyo, Vette’s appreciation, Dr. Oggurob’s renewed creativity, Gault and Hylo…. well she passed right over that. 

Zhaire focused in a different direction, catching the bright energy of Sana-Rae and the recruited force users, she touched upon Senya, somber but at peace for the first time since they met, and Arcann, humbled, hopeful, closer than she expected.

It wasn’t long before she heard the tread of someone climbing the ladder she’d used, and as Arcann pulled himself to the roof he made no attempt to mask his presence. 

“Arcann.” Zhaire greeted him, shuffling sideways so they could share the exhaust fan she sat on. 

“Commander.” Arcann offered a respectful nod before seating himself beside her. They both were quiet for several seconds, the rumble of the party and animalsongs washing over them, then Arcann turned to face her. “You can allow yourself to celebrate. This is your victory as much as theirs.” 

Even though he lacked his title, his deep voice rumbled with an implied order. Zhaire recognized it in herself as well, the ease and instinct that came with being born into power and an expectation to command. 

“And what of you?” She quipped back evenly. “I’d imagine this win is as much yours as it is mine.” 

Arcann cast his eyes down, a mix of emotions deepening the lines of his face. “Maybe. After all I’ve done, after Thexan, and Vaylin, and father… I’m tired. I no longer want to celebrate death.” He nodded as if to affirm the words for himself. “If I were to receive anything, I would want peace for my mother.” 

Zhaire raised a fine eyebrow, not of doubt but acquiescence. “You’ve certainly changed Arcann, you’ve come along way.” 

The former emperor brought his gaze back to hers, bright blue eyes considering. “As have you.”

His bluntness, though it should have been expected, startled Zhaire, giving her pause as he continued. “You are not the woman who came proud in chains to defy my father, nor are you the same as when we fought. The force around you, the way you bear the weight on your shoulders, it’s very different.” Arcann blinked at her thoughtfully. “How do you feel?”

In a rare moment, Zhaire found herself without a response. How did she feel? Such a simple question, but one rarely asked. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her and wanted to know more than what she gave them. Much less when questioned by such a voice and piercing eyes. 

“You’re right.” She replied slowly, searching for the explanation she struggled to find. “Much has changed since Darth Marr and I were brought to Zakuul. I feel…” Zhaire’s brow creased as Arcann waited patiently for her to continue. “I feel free, maybe for the first time in my life. The Sith Code teaches us that through utterly mastering the force, we can be free, and for every victory and mastering we’d get closer to that. Yet I never found it, each step I took, each hard won triumph, there was always more, it was unending.” Her mouth perked in a slight smile, it felt right finally putting this all to words. “I’ve learned now that the way I was taught is incomplete, that there is more to the force and the galaxy than the binary narratives espoused by the Sith and Jedi, and in stepping away from that, I’ve found a certain clarity. I’ve come to know more about others and about myself, about how to be a better, more complete person and without fear.” 

Though he did not respond immediately, Arcann nodded in agreement, understanding exactly what she was going through. “That is a path I am walking as well, it’s revelations don’t come without letting go.” 

Zhaire concurred, experiencing a sense of lightness at having gotten that off her chest. Her eyes narrowed with an uncommon appreciation. “You are the first person in a long time to ask me how I was.” 

“It’s lonely isn’t it?” He said earnestly, much more a statement of fact rather than a question. “Not having that openness with people.” 

His direct and keen insight continued to surprise her, but the more she found she appreciated it. “It’s true, even with the friends and companions I have… I have been lacking.”

“For what its worth, Zhaire.” Hearing him say her name put a warm jolt through her, as he daringly set his real hand on her arm. “You have me.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Again!"

Zhaire paused along the walkway at the ringing of Senya's command. Down below on the training field pairs of Zakuulan knights, Jedi, and Sith alike, moved in coordination, a flurry of paired steps set in time to the rhythm of orders. A flash of blonde caught her eye and Zhaire caught a glimpse of Lana and her sister, training blades in hand dancing across the sandy ground in perfect sync. Curiosity sufficiently piqued, Zhaire doubled back and down the stairs towards the trainees. It would be nice to cast aside her worries for a while, focus on something different.

Coming to stand next to Senya, both women dipped their heads in silent greeting and Zhaire folded her arms across her chest in observation. At the much closer distance, the movements of the pairs was even more impressive, the steps designed to simultaneous allow for the two to attack while also defending each other. Impressive enough with the training blades, but surely deadly with sabers.

“What is this?” She asked as Senya called for the pairs to reset. “I've never seen a fighting style like this.”

A proud smile curved the corner of the older woman’s mouth. “The technique is called Aivela’s Gambit, named in honor of the goddess who fought beside her brother Tyth.” She continued with the history lesson. “In Zakuul, every knight has a partner and they learn together to be as fierce as the Old God pair who lead Zakuul to victory. Your force-users aren’t taught to pair up as we are, Sith and Jedi solo warriors or squad leaders.” Senya set her hands behind her back and paced down the line inspecting the pairs, Zhaire followed. “It requires balance and trust.” She continued, pausing to correct the footwork of a young jedi. “The best can connect with their partner through the force, and be as one.”

With an insightful glance Senya stopped near Lixell and Lana who continued to move across the ground in harmony. “It is a difficult and intimate style, I am impressed, your sister and Lana are quick studies.”

A tiny prickle of indignation rolled through Zhaire but she couldn’t argue with the truth behind Senya’s observation. Since they’d met, the attraction between her sister and Lana had been apparent, and they’d only grown closer over the past five years; an unexpected love between a bright eyed Jedi and pragmatic Sith. And as Senya had said the trust and connection had to be there for the technique to flow. For a moment Zhaire touched jealousy before she pushed the feeling away. “Do you think I could learn it?”

Senya blinked. “Of course Commander. Who do you want to practice with?”

Considering, Zhaire’s immediate thought went to Jaesa, but with her apprentice still out of contact she had to reassess. Trust. It couldn’t be any of the recruits, not with how little she knew them, or with Lixell whom she still hadn’t fully connected with, or Senya who needed to instruct her. Zhaire set her hands on her hips. “Lana. Would you try with me?”

At the call of her name, Lana lowered her practice saber and exchanged a short glance with Lixell. The Jedi nodded, brushing her bangs from her face and squeezed Lana’s thin fingers with affection, then the blonde Sith turned to Zhaire. “Yes Commander. It’d be a pleasure.”

Lixell stepped off the field, and the rest of the group sensing a change in Senya’s attention lowered their own weapons, clearing a space for the two, and Senya mapped out the footwork required. “The first set are these six steps.” She explained, focused on instruction. “Footwork, posture, timing, I’m sure this is familiar.”

“Quite.” Zhaire replied, for a moment recalling her own mother and the early years of her training. Habit memorized the patterns, the arm motions, as Senya finished the set once more. “The moves appear simple enough.”

The former knight wore her teaching face, skeptical and appraising. “Then show me.” She demanded, and tossed the practice saber to Zhaire.

Instinct took over, her body and mind focused, honed for decades for combat. Settling into ready position and keeping the sequence in her mind's eye, Zhaire swept across the sandy training ground. Senya made her repeat the steps a dozen times all the while barking changes, until she was satisfied. “It's one thing to move on your own, but it means nothing if you can’t connect with your partner.” Her words were harsh, but Zhaire was finding a pleasant comfort in being brought back to her training on Ziost and Korriban, in being taught something new, in setting aside her role of commander to be a student again. “Lana, into position.”

Lana stepped up beside Zhaire, flicking an arc with her training blade. “Im ready, at your will.”

“Connect with each other.” Senya ordered.

Zhaire opened herself to the Force, finding the hyper-awareness that came with touching the life and power all around her. How did she ignore this when she had been Sith? The breath-stealing sensation of being a conduit for the energy of the galaxy. She found Lana’s signature with ease, and pushed against it, feeling her friend do the same.

“Move.”

The pair maneuvered through the steps, and though Zhaire had confidence in their performance, Senya remained unimpressed.

After what must have been the twentieth time she shouted ‘Again!’ Zhaire pulled away in frustration, the familiar well of anger spiking in her. Lana, if possible, was even more annoyed at their apparent lack of progress. “What are we doing wrong?” Not meaning to be so demanding, Zhaire drew a steadying breath and locked eyes with Senya

An immovable rock, Senya crossed her arms and frowned. “You are not working with her, you're leading and Lana allows it. It throws your timing off, and as you become concerned with the strike you lose the sense of defense, leaving her open. And as she’s concerned for protecting you, she loses the power in the final blow. If she can’t trust you to defend her, then you can’t trust her to be there for the attack.” Lana arched a protesting eyebrow, But Senya cut her off. “Remember how you felt with Lixell. That was balance, and that’s not what you have with the Commander.”

Lana’s unvoiced protest died while Zhaire silently bristled, but both knew Senya was correct. Leader-follower had long been their dynamic, and even with the trust they had as friends, Zhaire did set her will before Lana’s. Senya’s expression lost its hard ferocity and waved the trainees away. “That’s enough for today, we’ll work again tomorrow.”

As the trainees left the field, Lixell lagging for Lana, Senya approached Zhaire who still bore frustration. “I apologize for scolding you, Commander.” She said quietly, setting a hand on Zhaire’s shoulder. “Especially in front of everyone else.”

“No.” Zhaire shook her head, braid swinging behind her. “You raised a fair point, and it’s something I need to work on.”

“If I may suggest.” Thoughtful, a ghost of a smile touched Senya’s lips at an old memory. “My sons were the best I’d ever trained with the technique, but Arcann hasn’t had a partner since Thexan died.” Her eyes clouded with mourning for a moment and she blinked it away. “You could try it with him.”

Odd as it was to admit, Zhaire had to consider the possibility. Arcann certainly shared her strength, and she’d developed a quiet respect for him since he came to the alliance. Even more so since they had their discussion on the roof. And she welcomed the chance to have a simple win with anything for a while. The commander found herself nodding, she’d be damned to admit defeat before trying another option. “If he would assist, I’d be eager to try.” Zhaire said at last and Senya smiled.

\--

The two waited out in the training grounds for Arcann, Senya calmly loitering and Zhaire determinedly practice the steps. The repetitiveness and burn in her muscles pushed out the thousands of thoughts in her head; concern, planning, guilt, all shoved away by a refusal to to accept any kind of loss. A part of her recognized the obsessiveness, the false furious belief that a win here meant wins in other areas, but she pushed all that away. Step, sweep, step, guard, step, swing.

So focused was she that Zhaire missed Arcann’s presence, not knowing he’d arrived until she finished another set and heard his rumbling voice. “Your form is natural, but you favor your right side and it shortens your swings.”

Zhaire turned to face him, sand scattering at her feet. He looked tired, and then she remembered he’d been gone for days, working hard to assist after what he and has sister had done to the galaxy. For a moment she considered sending him away to rest, but the low measure of approval in his observation and thankfulness behind the fatigue gave her pause. “When did you get back?”

“Several hours ago.” His reply was a short one. Apparent, to Zhaire, he didn’t want to talk about it. “Mother said you wanted to learn Aivela’s Gambit, I’m… I’m honored that you would consider me.”

“It was Senya’s idea.” Zhaire said honestly, suddenly struck by the quick change of disappointment to acceptance in the way he cast his eyes down.

“I believe it will be good for the both of you.” Senya inserted before Arcann could respond. She reached out to her son with concern, affirmingly placing the training saber into his hands. Arcann hesitated, so Senya insisted. “Try it.”

At Senya’s word, Zhaire took the starting position, Arcann settling to her right. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him come to the same resolved she had, rolling over the blade in his hand and deciding that this accomplishment might offer a few precious second of stability.

“You have come together.” Senya reminded them, “This is about putting faith in your partner, in recognizing you fight for more than yourself. You both know that feeling. Find it again.”

\--

Senya drew a relieved breath, watching the two of them move into position. This was a gamble, and she prayed to Scyva that they would benefit from this.

She was aware of her selfish motives, the wish to see her last living child become whom he should have been. Even after his healing, her son remained hurt and fractured, suffering from his choices. The pain in him tore at her, even as she understood that letting him make his way was best. A lifetime of atoning would not be enough, but he had to have hope.

And the commander… with all the Alliance had lost, Zhaire needed to see she had done the best she could, that anyone could have. She needed to see that people still relied on her and she could rely on them as well. Senya felt the same ache of guilt from her as she did Arcann, if anyone was to understand what she was going through it would be her son.

\--

Arcann wrestled with his exhaustion, fighting to remember the practice steps and find comfort enough next to Zhaire.

Years had past since he last performed this technique, since he had trusted anyone enough to use it; and he killed the last person he had.

Thexan’s death haunted him nightly, etching deeper the stomach churning guilt until emptiness was all he had left. He would never be able to apologize for what he’d done to his brother. Zhaire standing beside him… he’d done the same to her hadn’t he? In his blind rage ran her through. She survived, likely father's influence, but that gave him the chance he never had with Thexan, and he never took with Vaylin: to apologize and maybe, just maybe, begin to make amends.

He could start here, putting his trust in her.

\--

Zhaire closed her eyes and searched for inner peace.

Fear had been her master for a very long time, and arguably continued to do so. The grand irony of being raised Sith. She thought she’d transcended past it, conquered her fears when she built her new saber, utterly destroyed them when she finally killed Valkorion. The recent weeks dashed all that. She feared for the Alliance, she feared for her friends, she feared for the future of the Empire, and her own ability to handle it. It burrowed into her mind and seeped its sickness, more subtle and malicious than the Dread Masters could have ever dreamed.

Letting go, accepting she needed help. Not exactly the teachings of the Sith. A wall stood between her and that vulnerability built herself brick by brick. She could pound and kick and scream and pretend it wasn’t there but it would not come down until she desperately and truely wanted it to. Above all Zhaire feared who she would be at that moment of weakness.

She’d nearly done it once before. That wound still hadn’t healed.

Zhaire sensed Arcann reach out to her with the Force: tentative, apologetic, clinging to opportunity, for both their sakes; recalled Senya’s instruction- Trust- as the call came for ready position. Trust. Just like on the roof, he told her then he had her back. She exhaled and let it happen, no pushing this time, allowing him feel her concern, her guilt, her fear. They caught the other in the corner of their vision, Arcann nodded, understanding.

And they moved.

It wasn’t perfect, not even close, but as Zhaire whipped around down the field, adrenaline spiking and her braid trailing behind, another sensation welled. It was light and vaguely energizing, not happy but… enduring. It felt like surety. Wholly different from her practice with Lana.

At the end of their blows, a natural syncing, Arcann’s eyes met hers in incredulity: he felt it too. A hundred questions sprung up unsaid, that instant of connection might have lasted longer than it had any right.

Then it dispelled. They both fell out of stance and the shared moment dissipated, taken away by the breeze and Senya’s approach.

“That was very good.” The knight said, not without pride, approaching. “Zhaire you need to watch your footing, and Arcann you are unpracticed but there’s promise for the two of you yet.” A smile played on her face causing Zhaire shot a querying look, to which Senya shrugged off with her eyebrows.

Arcann hummed a thoughtful note, nodding, cementing what he could of that fleeting experience. Stealing a side glance, Zhaire noted the uptick of his mood, a pleasing bonus to her own for having accomplished it. A small win.

Senya put them through a good dozen or two more times, but they never quiet got the same feeling back. Zhaire itched to keep trying until they did yet something told her the practice field was not going to be the location for that revelation. At last they finished the set and Senya held out her hands to take their training blades.

“Will I see you two at the next class?” She asked storing the weapons away in their racks. Zhaire and Arcann exchanged glances.

“I would like that.” He said, tilting his head with hesitant expectance towards Zhaire.

“It would be a pleasure.” She replied, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly, amicable, despite her formal tone.

Arcann grasped her outstretched hand. “Thank you Commander. I’ll treasure this opportunity.”

The corners of Zhaire’s mouth perked in a smile as they shook. The former price bowed his head to her in appreciation. Trust. She nodded in turn. Maybe a bigger win after all.


End file.
